


The Beginning of the End

by PriorityNaps



Category: Gintama
Genre: Blood and Violence (minor), Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Royalty, Slow Burn, Sorcerers, Supernatural Elements, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PriorityNaps/pseuds/PriorityNaps
Summary: Fantasy AUA sudden tragedy turns Hijikata's life upside down, for better or for worse.(GinHiji/HijiGin)





	1. Midnight Rendezvous

Hijikata is a light sleeper. It’s not something he’d picked up over the years, he remembers waking up in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of someone walking down the room past his chamber or soft voices nearby since he was a young boy. Eventually, his eyelids would start drooping again and he’d be snoring sweetly in no time, but many a time he’d climb out of bed and pluck a leather-bound book from the shelf or simply sit at the window’s ledge and gaze up at the beautiful stars in the sky. Tonight, however, is one of _ those _ nights. 

Hijikata sits up and stretches a bit to relieve the cricks in his back before throwing the covers aside and slipping out of bed. It’s not chilly out or anything but he shivers a little anyway when he leaves the warmth of his covers. His feet whisper against the carpet that covers most of the cobblestone floor as he makes his way across the room to his wardrobe. He opens each door slowly instead of throwing them apart like he’d usually do. The dumb thing creaks and Yamazaki still hasn’t followed his orders to oil down the hinges last week. 

He sorts through the stacks of silk and satin attire before his fingers fall upon the coarse fabric of a worn cloak. He’s careful to pull the folded dark cloth out from among the smoother, softer robes he wears daily. Many times he’d considered hiding the cloak someplace else to absolutely ensure that no one would see it, but for now, he thinks the best spot for it is right there with the rest of his clothes, somewhat but surely blending in. He dusts off the cloak and drapes it over his shoulders before walking over and pulling open the wooden door of his chamber.

Hijikata prefers being alone so his room is somewhat isolated from the rest, but sometimes a servant or a maid would be wandering closeby and he doesn’t want to risk being seen tonight. Nothing necessarily bad would happen if he were to get caught, but he prefers being safe than sorry. He pokes his head out and peers down both ends of the hallway to confirm they’re empty, and they are. He strains his ears for any noise― echoing footsteps or small voices― but all he picks up is the soft rustling of leaves outside his window. It’s almost soothing hearing the sound; something about the swaying branches and soft breeze mingling with nature always brought a sense of peace to him. 

He glances back at his room a final time before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door firmly behind him. He takes a deep breath before raising an arm and whispering a phrase or two. He concentrates on his hand for a bit, brows furrowed, and sure enough, a glowing sphere of light is soon hovering just above his palm. 

Hijikata breathes out in awe. He hadn’t tried this without his teacher’s presence before, and he’s both ecstatic and relieved to see he’s done it properly. 

He wraps the cloak closer around his figure and begins to make his way down the room, palm held out in front of him. The sphere is giving off sufficient light for him to be able to see a few feet in front of him. He can control how bright or dim its beam could be but is fine with it giving off relatively little light. 

He turns right at the crossroads and keeps walking until he reaches another wooden door. He places his other hand on it, the one without a glowing sphere floating above it, and closes his eyes. He whispers another chant and presses his palm hard against the wood to focus. After a second or two he feels a rush about him, akin to a strong breeze that has his hair whipping around his face and making his skin grow cold, and when he opens his eyes he finds himself outside the castle. 

His hand is still on a door, just not the same door as before. The sphere is no longer bobbing up and down in his hand; the spell was killed when he’d recited a new one and he’s yet to learn how to maintain two or more at roughly the same time. Hijikata looks around himself and sees that he’s stood in front of a modest cottage surrounded by familiar vegetation. The castle walls aren't visible from where he is, and the moon shines down at him from above. It’s a bit larger than a crescent, almost at the quarter moon phase, so it’s not giving off that much light. 

Hijikata turns his attention back to the cottage in front of him. He curls his hand into a fist and softly raps his knuckles against the door three times, each knock at a different point on the door to ultimately form a gentle diagonal line. A second or two passes before it’s opened by an old man around his height. Upon seeing Hijikata, a smile breaks out on his wrinkled features and he steps aside to let the other in. 

-x-X-x-X-x-

“How have you been, Toshi?”

The old man’s voice floats over to where Hijikata stands in front of a bookshelf. There are six of them in total, all stuffed with books, notebooks, and other things. He runs his fingers down the worn leather bindings that hold together papers full of enchantment spells and the like. He has yet to memorize and practice them all, though his teacher says he is well on his way to becoming as great a wizard as his older brother, the king. 

“I’ve been well, Sensei. I’d actually used the spell you taught me last week to get here. Oh, and the _ hikari _ one, too. I tried it tonight and nothing caught fire like last time.”

The old man laughs heartily. 

“Well, isn’t that good news, Toshi? I’m impressed you’ve mastered the more advanced spells quicker than Tamegoro ever did!”

Hijikata runs a hand through his loose jet black locks― an old habit of his― and smiles sheepishly. 

“It’s no biggie, Sensei. Nii-san is better than me at basically everything else anyway, ya know.”

The old man smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips curve upwards. It's clear to most that Hijikata has somewhat of an ego, but not for materialistic reasons such as being a prince and next in line for the throne (but that's a long ways ahead), or learning under one of the most skilled and experienced sorcerors of his time. It barely shows through though, since it's offset by how full of admiration and respect he is for his older brother and teacher. He didn't always like being compared to him because no matter what, he always thought of Tamegoro as the better between the two of them. 

“―sei? What’s the matter, Sensei?”

The old man blinks and turns his attention back to his student. He must have a faraway look in his eyes because Hijikata’s watching him skeptically.

“Nothing, dear boy. Find anything interesting?”

Hijikata turns back to face the shelves before him. He's holding a book in the crook of his arm but he puts it back where he found it. 

“Interesting, yes. But I don’t know what to pick.”

He catches movement from his peripheral. A hardcover book about three inches thick is carefully pulling itself out of its place on the second shelf from the top. It looks extremely ancient― falling apart almost― and there are small, equally worn slips of paper peeking out here and there. The letters on the cover are almost completely faded and illegible, the pages in between cracked and tan-colored. It floats through the air by command of the older man and lands noiselessly on the round table sat toward the left side of the room away from the aisles of books. 

Hijikata tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear and lets his mouth quirk into a half-smile. He and Sensei have somewhat of a thing going on in which they’d use spells and move things with their minds to try and freak the other out. Usually, it’s Hijikata who gets startled, but every once in a while he’d also manage to throw his teacher off.

Sensei is already at the table, flipping through the book with purpose. The old man would never invite Hijikata to the Lodge if he didn’t have any lesson plans in mind, but he’d still make sure to ask if the boy wanted to try something specific on those nights. Hijikata was a natural, quick to adjust and learn new spells by the day, so his teacher didn’t go easy on him. He’d pick the more advanced books and would set early deadlines for his student. 

Although Hijikata is encouraged by his older brother not to practice outside classes, he’d still do so anyway. He’s eager and willing, and that makes it all the more easier for him to learn. He’s grateful for his room being far apart from the rest; it not only gives him privacy and minimal distraction but an opportunity to perform spells with less risk of getting caught. 

“What do you have for me tonight, Sensei?” Hijikata removes the cloak from his shoulders, hanging it up on the hook by the door. It had been given to him by the king himself to use exclusively for night visits since Tamegoro claimed it helps in blending in with the dark. When Hijikata responded to that by saying of course it did, the color was navy blue, his brother simply chuckled and said that wasn’t just it.

“Come, Toshi, let me show you.”

The old man beckons with a backhand wave and Hijikata is quick to oblige. He adjusts the ties on his night yukata then heads for the table. His teacher had flipped to a page and when Hijikata peers over his shoulder he sees that it’s filled with words. There are no sketches or drawings like there are in most other books, and he can’t make out what the words mean. He tips his head to the side.

“Is the book upside down or is that a different language?”

The old man chuckles.

“Different language, Toshi. It’s only been used for certain spellbooks such as these. Very few have the ability to understand these words, and very soon, you will be one of them.”

“You’re going to teach me a new language?”

“That’s right. Being the fast learner you are, it shouldn’t be difficult.”

Hijikata turns around to lean his lower back against the table’s edge and rests his forearms over his chest. He reaches up to play with the strands of hair running down his right shoulder.

“If you say so, Sensei. How long do you think it’ll take?”

His teacher looks back at the book and puckers his lips in quiet contemplation.

“A couple of months for sure, Toshi. We’re talking a whole different language here.”

Hijikata nods in affirmation.

“So, when do I start?”

The old man closes the book and turns to face him. He leans one hand against the table and places the other at his jutted hip.

“I think for now I’ll show you a little something. It would really come in handy with your hair.”

The hand that’s playing with his locks stops.

“My... hair?”

He jolts when he feels it suddenly leave his shoulders and the back of his neck. The strands bunch together somewhere in the center behind his head and stay there like they’re being held in a ponytail by some invisible force.

“How’d you do that?” he breathes out. “And you’re not even concentrating.”

The old man smiles knowingly.

“You want to learn that first or this language?”

Hijikata moves his hand to feel the back of his head. Sure enough, there’s a ponytail there but no hair tie to uphold it. He could feel a little dent in his hair where the tie is supposed to go. 

Sensei had taught him spells he could use to move things with his mind, but those were all temporary; once he dropped his concentration the spell would break. This, however, was different, more long-lasting. His teacher was right in that it would help with his hair since he would always manage to misplace his hair ties. Who could blame him though? The things were so small and easy to lose.

“I guess this one first, Sensei.”

“Very well, dear boy.”

-X-

When Hijikata says goodbye to Sensei and returns to his room, it’s been almost two hours. That’s actually quite a record since some nights Hijikata would only leave when the first rays of sun would peek over the horizon. He dreads those days since he’d be running on roughly two to three hours of sleep, but it’s also very worth it, so he doesn’t complain. 

Now he steps into his room, closing the door shut behind him. He removes the cloak, folds it up carefully, and wedges it somewhere in his wardrobe where no one can see it. He ends the spell holding his hair up and snuggles under the covers, fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the quilt to suit his current needs. He usually has a hard time falling back to sleep, but he’s knocked out not ten minutes later.

-x-X-x-X-x-

When he opens his eyes again the sun is up in the sky, its rays streaming through the glass of Hijikata’s bedroom window. He hears chirping outside, which means he’s woken up late. 

He sits up and scrubs tiredly at his face, fixing his yukata so it covers his chest. His hair is a mess and he knows it. When he tries running his fingers through it they get stuck in the knots and tangles. Judging by the absolute wreck of his bedsheets, he hadn’t slept well. He doesn’t remember having any nightmares, and those are what usually keep him up at night. 

There’s a sharp rapping at his door before it’s pushed open. In walks Hijikata’s best friend, who lives in the castle as well and has long, dark hair and sharp features just like him. People new to the castle or staff often confuse the two of them or take them for twins. The pair are easily distinguishable by eye color since Hijikata has electric blue and Katsura has light brown.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

Hijikata narrows his eyes.

“You shut up,” he hisses.

Katsura laughs and walks up to his bed, pushing Hijikata’s feet away so he could sit down in front of him. He crosses his legs up, a lazy grin stretching his lips, and watches Hijikata’s poor attempts at taming his brush pile. 

“Let me,” he says after a bit. Hijikata stops what he’s doing and turns around so he’s facing the headboard, and soon he can feel Katsura working out the knots starting near the tips of his hair. He’s a couple years older than him and claims he’s had plenty of experience with this kind of stuff, so Hijikata usually trusts him with it. 

Sometimes he yanks a little too hard and Hijikata’s got half a heart to smack him each time for it― they’re both very serious about their hair― but feels too lethargic. His eyes burn like they do when he’s running on too little sleep and his body feels strange and numb all over. It’s never this bad, not even when he doesn’t catch any shuteye. He’s accustomed to running on little energy since he was a small boy so he’s pretty much used to it. Right now, though, he considers propping his elbows up on his crossed legs, tucking his chin in his hands, and dozing, but Katsura’s somewhat rough efforts are preventing him from doing that. 

“Can you _ try _ to be more gentle, asswipe?” he yelps when his neck gets snapped almost all the way back. Behind him, Katsura sighs.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to keep you awake, Sleeping Beauty? Just because I’m sitting behind you doesn’t mean I can’t see how drowsy you are.”

Hijikata twists around to give Katsura a dirty look. The guy’s a little too perceptive for his own good, but his airhead attitude shines through more often and that makes it way easier for the prince to forget how sharp he is. And he’s more than fine with that; it’s usually a good thing to be close with someone who knows when and how to use their brain properly.

“Hey, enough with the Sleeping Beauty. And c’mon, can you blame me for being so exhausted?”

Katsura, who seems to have worked out most if not all the tangles in Hijikata’s hair, gets up to grab the hairbrush from the vanity in the room’s corner, close to the window. When he returns he positions himself the same way as before and gets to smoothing out his friend’s locks. 

“Honestly, not really. You don’t seem to have slept well last night. Could tell by the way your bedding is a bigger mess than your hair.”

The way Katsura’s brushing makes Hijikata desperately want to go back to sleep. The bristles rake firmly against his scalp but not in a painful way. It’s like a massage almost, and it feels heavenly. Every stroke sends a wave of bliss over him, and he could sense his body very slowly give in to unconsciousness despite his dwindling efforts not to.

“I thought you were trying to keep me awake,” he mumbles with a yawn. He rubs hard at his eyes to rid the fatigue but it doesn’t help like he wants it to. There are dark splotches obscuring his vision when he’s done and his lashes are wet. He wants to shake his head but that would disturb Katsura.

“Hey, hey. This part’s necessary and you know that.”

His head lolls to the side.

“Mmmm, remind me again?”

Another sigh. “It helps with blood flow in your scalp, Hijikata. This way your hair will remain healthy and strong, like you want it to.”

“Uh-huh.” 

A couple more minutes pass before Katsura finally finishes and gets up again to return the brush. By then, Hijikata’s eyes are barely open and he can’t find the energy to move his limbs. The only thing keeping him awake is the iron fist of self-control he’s got over himself. 

“Hijikata, hurry up and change. You’ll be late for breakfast,” Katsura’s voice sounds far away even though he knows the guy’s probably standing over him. He groans and rolls over so he’s face-down on the bed and mumbles something incoherent that not even he knows the meaning of. 

“Want me to call the old lady? Is that why you’re doing all this?”

“_ God, no _, I’m up, I’m up. See?” He rights himself so fast his vision swims and darkens, but anything’s better than dealing with the old lady so early in the morning. Scratch that, any time of the day. She’s so prune-faced and scowly it leaves Hijikata’s own frowns in the dust. Not to mention her perpetual bitchy attitude. 

“If I’d known you’d react that way I should’ve brought her up way earlier,” Katsura says. “Seriously, though, what happened last night, Hijikata? Did you have a bad dream or something?”

Hijikata gets up from the bed and walks to his wardrobe.

“Beats me, Katsura. I don’t remember a thing, honest.”

His friend hums to show he’s listening and gets to smoothing out the bedsheets. Once Hijikata changes into something presentable he joins him.

“I returned from the Lodge sometime between midnight and one, so I shouldn’t have had trouble waking up, right? Or maybe something’s up with my body clock? Is that it?”

Katsura’s fluffing up a pillow when he answers.

“Y’know what I think? We’re giving this too much thought. You had a bad dream and don’t remember it. That’s it.” He adjusts the blanket where he’s standing. “Let’s not overcomplicate this, alright? Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hijikata stretches until the muscles at his torso start to burn. When he’s done his stomach makes a sound a lot like a whale’s mating call. Heat creeps up his neck when he hears Katsura stifle a laugh and he smacks him for it. 

“Guess your stomach speaks for itself. Go wash up and then we’ll eat.”

"Yeah."

Hijikata mutters the spell to position his hair into a ponytail and follows his friend out the door.


	2. Time Is a Precious Thing

Most tales Hijikata had read of royalty and whatnot when he was much younger told that the dining halls were filled with important people sat at long-ass tables that provided enough food to last a single human being for a week. Reality didn’t agree. On typical days it’d just be himself, his older brother, his teacher, his best friend, his sister-in-law, and one or two other important acquaintances. They do have a much larger hall, but that’s only used for big gatherings and the like.

When he and Katsura burst through the doors to the dining room, everyone is already seated and waiting to dig in. No one frowns at or scolds the two as they scurry over; in fact, everyone’s got somewhat of a smile on, so that’s a plus. Today’s menu, a tall man stood near the table says, is the usual: steamed rice with grilled fish, a variety of vegetables that Hijikata will try his damnedest to avoid eating, miso soup, and natto. It’s simple and very similar to what every being in the kingdom eats before starting the day, the only difference being the serving size is way bigger. The man bows politely before leaving, and the sound of the door shutting echoes within the room. 

Everyone at the table quietly claps their hands together with an ‘itadakimasu’, picks up their chopsticks, and begins eating. It’s mostly silent since Tamegoro is against speaking at the dinner table, and although that’s the way it’s supposed to be, it makes the atmosphere somewhat awkward. Like they’re all a bunch of antisocial misfits being forced to attend a party and interact with people. The only sound being made is by their chopsticks or chewing. For some reason, it always makes Hijikata slightly uncomfortable.

He’s just lifted his glass to sip whatever’s inside when he’s addressed for the first time that morning by Tamegoro’s wife.

“Toshi. Did you not sleep well?”

Hijikata puts down his glass when he’s done with it and looks at Hayami two seats away. “What makes you think that, Ane-san?”

“Your eyes, dear. They look exhausted.”

Ever since Hayami entered his life, she’d been looking after him like his own mother would have. When he was much younger she’d be the one to kiss him goodnight, and if he ever came down with a cold or fever she’d be sitting right at his bedside watching over him. Even now, she’d often check up on him and make sure he’s okay. Hijikata sees her as a blood-related sister more than an in-law, hence the honorific he uses when addressing her. 

That being said, it’s no surprise to him that she’d caught the bags under his eyes. What he doesn’t understand, though, is why the airhead next to him hadn’t told him beforehand.

“Oh, they do?” he asks. “Yeah, I guess I had trouble sleeping last night.”

Hayami’s brow wrinkles in concern.

“Is everything alright? Were you feeling sick before bed?”

“No, no! It was nothing like that!” He’s not liking the attention he’s receiving. Even Tamegoro’s watching him, so he scrambles for a plausible excuse to end the conversation. “I just―”

“We were up late chatting is all, Onee-san,” Katsura suddenly butts in, like he knows Hijikata’s about to say something extremely stupid. He’s grateful for that, though, since Katsura’s fib sounds a lot more believable than what he was about to say.

“I see,” is all that’s said afterward. The rest of breakfast continues without small talk or any conversation at all, which is normal. For the first time in a while, Hijikata’s a-okay with that. He’d prefer this any day over what’d just happened.

-x-X-x-X-x-

Half an hour later finds Hijikata roaming the castle halls with no real purpose in mind. It’s something he does often when Katsura randomly disappears at times like this, and it proves to be a lot more fun than it sounds. The first time he’d come up with this idea was back when he was a child and loved to evade his learning sessions. His home proved to have countless little nooks and crannies for him to squeeze his tiny self into whenever he wanted to hide from his teachers or elders. Over the years he changed motives and instead sought out passageways and small, secretive tunnels stationed in the castle that seem to serve as escape routes. 

He hasn’t laid out what he’s going to do today, he never does. Every little discovery he makes of the castle is by chance, and that’s what he likes about it. With this curiosity of the unknown, he can turn almost every day into somewhat of an adventure. He usually takes note of his findings for the hell of it― it’s not like some other outside force would be wreaking havoc in the kingdom anytime soon and they’ll be needed― and keeps them all in a plain, inconspicuous journal somewhere in the wardrobe. He’s developed the bad habit of stuffing it someplace random without remembering where, so he wastes considerable time searching for it and occasionally making a mess of his clothes out of frustration. 

He’s on high alert right now, otherwise, things would slip past his notice too easily. That’s happened to him in the past, which is why he’d oftentimes retrace his footsteps or repeat the same route a day or two later. He doesn’t get to do this as frequently as he used to, so he makes sure to make the most of his time while it lasts. 

He turns left and walks past a series of doors leading to smaller rooms, then makes another turn that draws him nearer to the library. He hasn’t thoroughly explored it and the last time he went there was around a month ago. These days he doesn’t really seem to find time to pick up and read a good book from there so he’ll do a mix of both things. 

There are tall double doors leading to the library, which speak for the size of the place. It’s one of the largest and most important rooms in the castle, hence its relatively tight security. There is always at least one guard roaming the halls closeby just like how Hijikata is now, except said guard is more muscled and properly armed. Hijikata doesn’t see him when he reaches the doors so he assumes the man is somewhere further down. It’s not his concern though, since he’s not doing something he shouldn’t be and he wouldn’t be reported if spotted.

He pushes his way in and is met by aisles upon aisles of leatherbound books, all categorized and chronologically ordered. Hijikata has to crane his neck to see the higher shelves that are just shy of kissing the ceiling. There are two members of the castle staff that stay in the library for most of the day and they never switch jobs. They are also one of the very few allowed by the king to use sorcery from day to day without consequence. Most of the members here are sorcerers, but skilled and talented ones― such as the two handling the library― are hard to find. These people have higher levels of _ kiryoku _ than the average.

_ Kiryoku _ is the divine energy flowing within someone who practices sorcery. Its quantity is determined by birth and varies from person to person; someone with high levels of _ kiryoku _ is much stronger in nearly every aspect than those with lower levels. It can’t be measured precisely, but a sort of aura about these people easily gives away their strength and capability. This “aura” can be made hidden, which is what most people do, but it’s used as a means of showing off or as a display of power when it isn’t. 

Way back when, Scholars― people who spent most of their days studying and understanding _ kiryoku _― managed to find a way to gauge the amount of the energy within a person. They kept it simple by using numbers, 8 being the highest and 1 being the lowest. The vast majority is somewhere between one and three, the average; four to six is advanced; seven is very uncommon; and eight is found in three or four people for every billion. 

Hijikata’s teacher is a 6.5, the highest he’s ever seen. Just about every other person he’s met is an average. A small percentage of the castle staff is advanced, but no one measures past 6. Tamegoro is a solid five, his wife a 2.7, and Katsura a 4.3. Hijikata’s been told he’s around Katsura’s level, but he doesn’t give it thought. Besides, he has other things to worry about, like finding defects in the stone walls or flipping through odd-looking books.

One of the two book-handlers is situated near the top of a tall ladder and clutching a few manuscripts in the crook of his arm. He seems to be sorting something out, which is no news. He and his partner do this kind of stuff all day, every day. The library is not the most popular or the most frequented place in the castle, but it’s visited by many every week in that it keeps the book-handlers occupied most of the time. 

Hijikata gives him a wave when he locks eyes with the man on the ladder. He’s never been good with small talk so he makes no move to walk up to him. Instead, he ambles left until he reaches the aisle way at the end of the room and enters it. The shelves here are stacked with relatively thick books. They date older the higher they are, and the bottommost have been there just a couple of years or months. 

All of them are pages upon pages of journal entries of sorts. Not the childish kind that talks about what its owner ate for dinner or what they did after waking up. These keep record of the state of the kingdom from time to time. They help greatly in that they give the king a vivid idea of what laws and practices are beneficial to his people and land and what aren’t. Hijikata doesn’t really pay attention to them since they don’t have any information that would entertain him as a prince. 

These journals are the most well-kept compared to the rest of the books. A spell has been placed on this section of the library so that it’s much cooler in temperature. This helps in preserving the pages and keeping them from yellowing or becoming worn. It’s been suggested more than once that the older records be rewritten, but Tamegoro hasn’t agreed to it thus far. 

Hijikata makes his way down the aisle, arms crossed and tucked in the wide sleeves of his robes. It truly is a bit chillier here. Not the type to send shivers rolling down his spine by the second, but his fingers start growing cold. He’s always had a problem with his hands and feet being as cold as blocks of ice when the rest of his body is nice and warm, so he’s not worried at all. He scans the journals to his left and right but nothing catches his eye. 

The shelves run about thirty feet, and when he reaches the end the tip of Hijikata’s nose is all red. There isn’t a dead-end here and he doesn’t have to turn around and walk back the way he came. The atmosphere grows noticeably warmer and he pulls his arms out. There are a few more yards of the wall until it turns sharply to form a corner. That’s when he sticks his hand out to run it gently against the stone and feel for chinks or cracks. Yes, cracks, because he knows for a fact that there aren’t normally supposed to be any, especially in the library. 

He doesn’t find what he’s hoping for. He’d even pushed at the wall in different areas and drawn special patterns over it when he was sure neither of the book-handlers was watching and thinking he was being childish. This isn’t something to be surprised about, though, so he moves on. He’s got thirty-seven aisles and over two thousand shelves to scour and he doesn’t want to be late for lunch.

-x-X-x-X-x-

He’s late for lunch. 

More than once he’d thought he was onto something in the library and was met with disappointment. It was only when the book-handler he’d seen earlier told him the time that he realized how long he was in there for. The library is two floors away from the dining room and Hijikata wasn’t about to risk teleportation despite his hurry. 

He walks in almost timidly, not making a grand entrance like he did that morning with Katsura. Again, everyone is seated and waiting for him. Not everyone is wearing a smile and his best friend is also there. 

“Where were you, Toshi?”

It’s Tamegoro.

“Ah, I was in the library, Nii-san. I didn’t realize how late it was getting, so forgive me for not coming on time again.”

He bows slightly in apology then takes a seat at the rectangular table. The food hasn’t been touched yet out of respect for his absence and Hijikata’s cheeks color in embarrassment. It may seem like a kind gesture but to him, it just means that he was preventing everyone else from eating. Steam isn’t rising from the large dishes centered on the table like there usually is, so he’d been expected for a while.

He’s served second-to-last like always, right before Katsura. There are heaps of rice and what he’s guessing is nanbanzuke on everyone’s plate. It’s not his favorite, but he still enjoys eating it. 

“What were you doing in the library, Toshi?” Hayami asks after a few bouts of silence.

Hijikata was hoping she didn’t ask but for the third time that day, luck refuses to be on his side. He wipes his mouth and gulps down some water before speaking.

“Nothing special, Ane-san. I was just looking at some books is all.”

“Really? Did you find anything interesting?”

He knows this small talk will drag on if he gets into too much detail, judging by the hint of excitement in Hayami’s question. An inconspicuous scan around the table tells him that she’s not the only one intent on hearing his answer. Even his teacher’s got his eyes on him while he chews.

“Uh, not really. I mostly just walked around.”

Hayami’s lips pucker in a way that makes it look like she’s pouting, but Hijikata knows it’s just a face she makes when she’s disappointed. His ears start heating up.

“I see. Well, maybe next time I can go with you and show you some things you might like!”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

He’s not too thrilled on the prospect. He’ll just have to hope Hayami forgets. 

When they’re all done and leaving the room to scatter about the castle, Hijikata catches up to Katsura and grabs him by the shoulder to spin him around.

“Oi, dipshit, where were you?”

Katsura blinks.

“Me? I was just taking care of something.”

He says the same exact thing every time he’s asked this and Hijikata wonders if it’s is a result of his airhead personality or lack of a better answer. It’s probably not something too important since nothing seems odd about Katsura when he always materializes a while later. 

Whatever.

“Where ya off to now, huh?”

Katsura blinks again.

“Me? I’m just going to take care of something.”

...It really does surprise him, how much of an idiot this guy could be. 

“Riiight.” Hijikata lifts the hand on Katsura’s shoulder to give him an awkward pat, then watches his friend go. 

He’s going to practice last night’s spell on some other things in the safety and privacy of his bedroom, so he begins to head there now. Further down the hall are Tamegoro and his teacher talking in low voices. That’s pretty normal so Hijikata would have just walked past them if it weren’t for the wrinkles of concern on his brother’s face. When the pair see him, they stop what they’re doing and he hears a ‘we’ll speak later’. Tamegoro turns to leave but the older man walks up to Hijikata.

“Toshi, don’t come to the Lodge tonight, alright?”

The little smile he’s wearing drops from his face. He was fully expecting Sensei to ask how lunch was or something, since he usually does that. 

“Sorry?”

“Just go to bed like you’d normally do. There won’t be any lessons from now on.”

Hijikata’s taken aback once the words register. He’s _ never _ been told this before.

“Why? Is something the matter, Sensei?”

He’s answered with a shake of the head.

“No, no, nothing like that, dear boy. I just… won’t be available for the time being.”

_ Not available? _

He blinks like an idiot.

“Are you… going somewhere?” There’s panic seeping into his voice and he knows it. His mind is reeling. Sensei has never said or done anything like this in the past. His level of _ kiryoku _ has made him valuable and he’s been kept in the safety of the castle, away from outside threat, for as long as Hijikata has known. That being said, it’s hard to make sense of his teacher being ‘unavailable’.

“You could say that,” Sensei reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind Hijikata’s ear and chuckles. “Don’t worry, Toshi, you’ll see me again very soon.”

Hijikata gently clasps his teacher’s hand and sandwiches it with his own. He tenderly brushes his thumb over the wrinkles and grooves and veins on the back of it. 

“How long…?”

Sensei places his other hand on top of Hijikata’s so they form a little stack. 

“I don’t know, Toshi. We’ll see.”

None of these answers are helping at all. In fact, they’re having the complete opposite effect. There’s a hint of _ something _ in Sensei’s tone, something that doesn’t bode well, something that tells him his teacher knows _ exactly _ how long he’ll be gone, something that makes the organs in Hijikata’s middle morph together into an anchor and drop. He lowers his head, eyes never leaving their hands but covered by his bangs.

“Hey, look at me, dear boy. Why the long face? This isn’t goodbye.”

The hand atop of his moves to lift his chin. Sensei is smiling, one of those small ones that warm his heart every single time without fail. Even now Hijikata could feel something in his chest tingle when he holds his teacher’s gaze. That something might just be lifting the anchor down below because he feels a tad bit better.

“Then what is it?” he squeezes the hand he’s holding.

“Hmm. How about ‘see you later’? Are you okay with that, Toshi?”

No, of course he’s not. This is the man who’d made Tamegoro into who he is today. This is the man who treated Hijikata like his own son. This is the man who made Hijikata feel like he had a real, living, breathing father. He’d already lost his parents once and though he doesn’t remember the pain and loss, could he bear it a second time?

“Then… who’s going to teach me? And… and that language, y-you said it would take a couple of months―”

Sensei’s hand moves to cup his cheek. 

“Don’t worry about that, Toshi. I’m sure Tamegoro will find someone. You have faith in him, no?”

Hijikata nods vigorously.

“Then don’t frown like that, my dear boy. I don’t want you being upset over this. You don’t want me to be upset because you are, don’t you?”

He shakes his head. It’s things like this that make him feel guilty, even selfish. Who was he to lower Sensei’s spirits with his own? Who was he to make that small smile disappear by his lack of one?

“Good! Very good. I’ll see you later then, Toshi.”

He’s never good with goodbyes. It’s mostly because he’s almost never had to say them― the only times being with members of the castle or guests he barely knew― which is why Sensei’s departure is so hard on him. He doesn’t know if he should hug, or just shake hands, or simply nod. Luck might just be on his side that day after all because Sensei’s arms go around his chest and waist in an embrace. He almost immediately returns it, squeezing with all his might, not caring how fragile Sensei’s old age has made him. He hears a chuckle and feels bony fingers comb themselves through his ponytail, and that’s when he feels his eyes start to sting. 

He almost never cries, hasn’t done so in years since nothing around him happened that would cause him to. So he crushes his eyelids together almost as hard as he’s hugging Sensei and wills himself not to let his tears spill out. He knows he doesn’t have any control over that except with magic, but no way in hell is he using a spell that’s been taught to him by the very man who’s leaving him any time soon. 

A thin pair of lips briefly rest themselves on his forehead to leave a kiss and Hijikata doesn’t dare move to wipe at it. He never liked being kissed, always thought of it as something super embarrassing, especially when Hayami does it. Now he silently begs for the older man to leave more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s gently pushed away and seized by the shoulders. Sensei’s face suddenly hardens and Hijikata’s scared he broke a bone or something when he was squishing him.

“Toshi. I have one request for you. Can you do it?”

_ Phew. _

“Of course, Sensei.”

“Good. I know I said this to you not long ago but… _ don’t go to the Lodge tonight _. Understood?”

He wants to ask why, because there’s nothing wrong with him going there on his own, but knows better. He answers with a nod.

“Good,” his teacher repeats. “Go on now. You were going to practice in your room, weren’t you?”

“Y-yeah.”

_ How the hell does he know? _

“Right, then! Off you go, Toshi!” There’s enthusiasm laced in his voice that’s supposed to make Hijikata feel better but it doesn’t work.

He’s gently shoved in the direction of his room. If it weren’t for that he probably would have stayed glued to the floor. He begins the long walk, meaning to look back right before turning the corner, but Sensei isn’t there.

-x-X-x-X-x

Night falls and Hijikata isn’t feeling any better. He’s curled up in bed and not the least bit tired. It isn’t midnight yet but it feels strange knowing he won’t be throwing on his cloak, sneaking around while holding a ball of light, and teleporting over to the Lodge in a bit. 

Sensei’s words have left him extremely puzzled. It’s clear he is going somewhere outside the castle, maybe even the kingdom, but where? He’s never needed to do that as far as Hijikata knows. And― if he’s not overthinking the situation― it also seems way too sudden. Less than a day ago he was all fine and giving his student lessons, and now he’s leaving without telling Hijikata the location? 

Most importantly, where did the Lodge fit in this? Is something going to happen there and Sensei doesn’t want him to know? Would he be in danger if he went there? Is Sensei trying to protect him?

His thoughts halt almost abruptly at the last realization, and that anchor is back because suddenly he _ has _ to go to the Lodge. He kicks the covers aside and jumps out of bed, then changes out of his night yukata as fast as he can. His cloak is yanked out none-too-carefully from its hiding spot and he nearly gets lost trying to reach the door to which he teleports.

Right when he’s about to do so, though, he stops, mentally smacking himself for being so stupid. At the most inconvenient (but equally convenient) of times, he remembers: the Lodge isn’t just like any building, and in several ways. For one, it can disappear.

Not completely out of existence, but Sensei has the ability to conceal it in a way that makes it seem like it’s not there at all. It’s not made invisible though, because then someone could still feel it despite not seeing it. 

That being said, there’s no way Sensei would not conceal it tonight. He does that during their lessons so no one would see light pouring out of the small windows of the Lodge so late at night, which means he can conceal it while there are animate objects in it. Hijikata’s highly suspecting he’s in there. For what reason, he doesn’t have a clue.

Still, it’s worth a shot. He places his hand on the door, recites the spell, squeezes his eyes shut, and dreads the worst. The breeze he feels while teleporting feels colder than usual. 

When he lands, he’s met with darkness. For a second he fears he’d made some error, but a look around tells him he is where he’s supposed to be. The castle is visible, but he can only see a vague outline of it. Up above, the moon is hidden behind a thick blanket of clouds, which explains the murk. He blinks a couple times, willing for his eyes to quickly adjust to the lack of light.

To his utter shock, the Lodge is there. He’s not faced with trees and grass like he thought he would. The building is fairly small on the outside, but here’s the second unique thing about it: the interior is much larger. It’s the only reason why so many shelves of books and other things can fit in there without it being cramped. Simply put, a spell’s been used on it so that its outside appearance is purposefully smaller than its actual size. 

Hijikata readies his fist to knock but freezes when he hears voices inside. There are two, and he only recognizes one. His Sensei sounds relatively calm, but the other is harsh, almost threatening.

He steps away from the door and heads to the window on the east side of the Lodge. To his dismay, it’s been covered with something so he can’t see inside. He’d been taught a spell a while back that allows him to see through inanimate objects but he hasn’t used it in ages. He isn’t too confident about using it right now but it’s the only option he’s got. He’s never experienced the consequences of mispronouncing or misusing a spell but knows there are, so he steels himself before reciting.

It works. An oval-like opening appears where he’d aimed, almost like a hole in the wall. It looks very similar to a mirror, except it doesn’t show his reflection and is surrounded by some cloudy-like mist that keeps shifting. Only he can see it, so he’s not worried about whoever’s inside to catch him. 

Sensei is on the floor. That’s the first thing he notices. He’s sitting with his legs bent at acute angles and his palms flat against the ground behind him to brace himself. In front of him is a man who Hijikata guesses is the same age if not a few years older than himself. He can only see the left side of his profile, where dark purple hair reaches far enough to cover his left eye. He’s wearing an ugly, twisted smirk that only spells triumph and is clad in dark clothing that snugly fits his body. 

What’s most alarming is the long, shining blade he’s holding mere inches from Sensei’s jugular. It gleams ominously in the faint candlelight. Hijikata can’t tell what the weapon is exactly, but it looks a lot like a sword.

He doesn’t know how, but he manages to keep himself from bursting straight through the solid wall and knocking into the perpetrator. Maybe it’s the calmness expressed in Sensei’s demeanor despite being threatened that holds him to the spot. Hijikata’s never seen the man afraid or angry and that really speaks for itself in that he could easily bring the swordsman down but is choosing not to. 

“Come on, old man, spill already.”

The younger man speaks, and for unknown reasons, it sends a chill gliding over Hijikata. His voice is very low so he has to strain his ears to hear properly, but the sharpness in it is unmistakably clear. 

“Say or do all you want, dear boy. You won’t be getting an answer out of me because I don’t understand what you mean.” There’s a hint of a gentle smile on Sensei’s face, but Hijikata’s too distracted by the fact that he said ‘dear boy’. He’s never heard his teacher say that to anyone except him. The anchor in him disappears, but in its wake is a hollowness that makes his stomach churn.

Who the hell was this other guy to Sensei? Did they know each other? And if they did, why were they not on good terms?

There’s a chuckle that turns his attention back to the present. He knows who it came from, because Sensei’s never laughed in a way that’s so sinister, a way that’s the complete opposite of what a laugh is meant for. 

“Alright then. I’ll ask one more time. There’s no point in denying you gave your _ kiryoku _to someone else. I can sense it, you know that?”

The blade draws closer to skin when the unknown man finishes and Hijikata should have noticed that the second it happened, but he’s once-again too occupied trying to process what’d just been said. 

_ There’s no point in denying you gave your _ kiryoku _ to someone else. _

Could people do that? As far as he’d been told it wasn’t possible. Perhaps Sensei’s level of capability allowed him that ability? 

Speaking of which, this other man was able to ‘sense’ what Sensei had done, _ if _ he had done it. Just how strong did that make him, then? How much of a threat was he?

“I see you are more advanced than you let on. Not many people can discern that.”

The man’s smirk drops and Hijikata’s suspecting he’s frowning.

“Hey, hey. Don’t try and change the subject. I’ve been told that too many times to count. Answer the damn question! And _ don’t deny it_. Who did you give your _ kiryoku _ to?”

Hijikata sees Sensei’s Adam’s apple bob. Either he’s growing angry or nervous. That’s not a good sign.

“Dear boy, you should know by now that you won’t be getting the answer you’re looking for out of me. This is pointless.”

Something shifts in the atmosphere of the Lodge, and despite being outside, Hijikata can feel it too. It’s like a hand is pushing his heart further into his chest, except that hand is heavy as lead.

“Alright then, old man. You had your chance,” the man says.

And then he wraps his other hand around the sword, raises it over his head, and everything goes downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out before my birthday so VOILA.
> 
> <strike>cliffhangers are so fun to write...</strike>


	3. Till Death Do Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens that leaves Hijikata dazed and utterly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: blood

Hijikata has barely enough time to let out a noise, a shout, _ anything_. The offending blade comes rushing down, tearing through flesh, ripping past muscle, and finally piercing Sensei straight in the heart. There’s a sickening sound that comes after, followed by the sword coming out the other end, and that’s when Hijikata looks away. He doesn’t know why, but he refuses to clap his hands over his ears. There aren’t any screams, only agonizing silence, but soon enough he can hear the steady drip of blood hitting the wood floor. 

He’s rooted to the spot, and he can’t tell if it’s fear that’s keeping him there or something else. His insides are scrambling, it feels like his intestines are twisting around further in his gut like a boa constrictor. Bile rises up his throat and burns the back of his mouth, but he clamps his lips together and tries his hardest not to heave right then and there. 

He hears the sound of metal raking across skin and he knows it’s the perpetrator withdrawing his blade. He steels himself to look and when he does, he sees Sensei crumpled to the floor on his side, a growing crimson stain on his front. There’s blood pooling beneath him already, and it’s getting bigger by the second. He’s still alive, Hijikata can see that, but he knows he won’t be in the next couple of minutes. 

The mystery man just stands there a few seconds, watching his victim clutch at his chest and gasp for air. He moves his sword arm a second time and Hijikata’s heart jumps because he thinks he’ll stab Sensei again, but he just flicks it sharply to the side to rid the metal of blood. Red splatters onto the floor and the wall he’s standing close to.

Hijikata desperately wants to run in there, desperately wants to relish the warmth of Sensei’s hands one last time, _ desperately _ wants to rip this murderer to nothing but pitiful shreds. He knows better though. He knows he’ll be killed immediately the second he’s spotted so he doesn’t move. Instead, he watched as his teacher makes somewhat of a choking sound, convulses a bit, and goes absolutely, terrifyingly still. 

Hijikata is about to run for the woods― he suddenly doesn’t want to be anywhere within twenty feet of here― but stops when finally,_ fin__ally _ he sees the mystery man’s face. He’s right in thinking the other is around his age because his features are still relatively young. Nothing about him stands out save for his right eye. It’s sharp and knowing, and a beautiful shade of green. At first glance, it would be hard to fathom that this man kills, but a closer look reveals the hint of maliciousness buried within his gaze.

The man runs a hand through his violet hair, pushing it away from his face, and therefore exposing his other eye. Or at least, Hijikata thought his other eye was there. His eyelid is shut, and even from here Hijikata can see the faint trace of a scar running from the skin beneath his eyebrow to below the socket. 

The man’s sword is sheathed with practiced ease and he gives one last distasteful look at the dead man before him.

“Fuckin’ waste,” he mutters, and the words make Hijikata’s blood boil. 

And then he’s gone, having teleported like he was never there. 

-X-

It takes a while for Hijikata to move. He’d dropped concentration long ago so he could no longer see inside the Lodge, but it never registered that he was literally staring at a wall. 

He scrubs at his face several times before standing on shaking legs. He has to brace himself against the wall when he nearly topples over. 

The image of Sensei’s lifeless body is drilled into his mind. He’d have expected such a kind man to simply die of old age or in some peaceful manner, but not like _ this_. All he could think of is how much _ blood _ there was. The corpse must be completely void of it by now, and the thought seriously unnerves him. 

He’s at a loss of what to do. He can’t run back to Tamegoro yelling about a dead body, because he was explicitly told to stay put in his room the whole night and he doesn’t want to disturb his brother and sister-in-law at a time like this, dire emergency or not. And he definitely doesn’t want to go inside the Lodge and do something about Sensei’s body. He has no other option though. He knows for a fact that he won’t be getting shuteye anytime soon, not with what he’d just witnessed.

His heart won’t stop racing, so he crouches down against the Lodge and waits for it to calm down. There’s an ache starting to form between his eyes and he squeezes them shut, holding his head in his hands. The atmosphere suddenly grows cold and his skin prickles.

When he finds himself as ready as he can be, he stands up again, slowly this time, and starts walking in the direction of the door. The sound of his footsteps and heavy breathing get drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. The headache is swiftly spreading over and past his temple and it makes him a bit dizzy, but he doesn’t want to sit down again. His hand never leaves the wall of the Lodge as he takes small steps that draw him closer to his destination.

It feels strange not knocking on the door when he reaches it. It’s surprisingly not locked, but that isn’t necessarily a good thing. He pushes it open quietly, taking a few deep breaths before stepping inside. 

Sensei is just the way he was before. On his side, surrounded by his own blood, glassy eyes facing ahead but not actually seeing anything. There’s a thin line of red spilling from his slightly parted lips that makes it look like he’s drooling blood. Hijikata’s heart feels like it’s being brutally crushed within a fist.

He walks up to the corpse, not caring that he’s walking over the blood of his teacher. He doesn’t bother with hiking up his yukata when he kneels and thus gets its hem drenched. Sensei’s palm is facing up, fingers curled like they’re trying to form a fist. It calls to him, deathly pale and no longer warm yet familiar as ever. Hijikata extends his own hand until they touch, refusing to flinch away despite how ice-cold the flesh is or that there’s blood on the back of it. He forms that little sandwich as he did just a few hours ago, caressing the skin between his own and bringing their joined hands to his chest to press them there. His eyes flutter shut and he can't stop the first tear that spills over.

They don’t stop after that, and before he knows it he’s full-on sobbing. He desperately tries keeping his voice down and somewhat succeeds, drawing blood with how hard his front teeth are digging into his bottom lip. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes afterward, just that it was enough to dry the wetness on his cheeks. His hands start to shake and from this, he knows the exhaustion is catching up to his body. There’s nothing left for him to do now, so he moves their hands from his chest to his face, meaning to press one last kiss to Sensei’s skin. He doesn’t even get to puckering his lips when they touch his hand because out of nowhere, _ something _ happens. 

They’re like thin tendrils of light, glowing a pretty blue color, and he would have watched in awe were it not for the raw terror that overcomes him. There are so many of them, all materializing from the puddle of blood on the floor that, now that he pays attention, is growing smaller. They move quicker than he can keep track of them, winding themselves around his wrists, up his biceps, his neck even. He drops the hand he’s holding and frantically tries to swat and pull at them but to no avail. They’re not hurting him in any way, but they send his nerves tingling unnaturally and shudders ripple through his body. 

Before he knows it they’re worming their way inside of him, and he can still see the light they give off after they wriggle into his flesh. He wants to yell out in surprise or fear― he doesn’t know which one― but he’s still not feeling any pain. Again he frantically shakes his arms and whips his head around to prevent them and it doesn’t work. It’s just cold, so cold, and the tingling won’t stop. It’s so overwhelming he can sense his limbs going numb. He’s never felt or seen anything like this before. He doesn’t like the way his whole body seems to be glowing and pulsing blue once they all work their way inside of him so his eyes squeeze shut and he gasps for air, willing for this to stop. 

And then, suddenly, it does.

The tingling is gone, and so is the numbness. He no longer feels cold. His eyes open and he hurriedly pats himself down to make sure he’s okay. He is, but something is off. He feels… _ different_, but that headache is back, and worse than ever. If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought his head was trying to split itself open from the inside. His mind is clouded and his vision swims with the sudden waves of dizziness that roll over him. He tries hard to focus on what’s in front of him but everything is a blur. Sensei’s body suddenly seems so far away, and he couldn’t bring himself to notice that not a drop of red is in sight.

He would’ve knocked out right then and there were it not for the realization that _ he isn’t supposed to be here_. Still dazed and confused, he stumbles his way through teleportation, crashing into the walls and falling once or twice on the walk back to his bedroom. His eyes are narrowed to mere slits with how intense the pain of his headache is. He almost forgets to change into his night yukata before all but collapsing onto his bed, haphazardly covering his quaking body with the sheets, and falling into a long, nightmarish sleep.

-x-X-x-X-x-

Morning doesn’t find Hijikata in any better health, and his bed is in worse condition than yesterday. He doesn’t even need to question its appearance now since he knows exactly what happened. 

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness the whole night, his sleep plagued with nightmares and visions too real to be considered mere dreams. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t shake the image of those glassy, lifeless eyes from his mind, nor the sheer amount of blood; he’s never seen something so gruesome in his nineteen years of living. His headache never went away― in fact, it spread throughout almost his entire body― and is still making his head throb so many hours later, and for reasons unknown he couldn’t stop shivering. 

He can’t believe he’s saying this, but he wishes he’d just obeyed Sensei’s final order and gone to bed like he normally would have. He’d be feeling much better if he’d done something so simple. Never once had he gone against a command from his elders, what had driven him to do so last night?

Worst of all, he knows for a fact that he looks like shit. Hayami won’t be the only one to notice this time. The immense lack of freshness in both his appearance and demeanor easily tell him that he just _ doesn’t _ have the energy to deal with that. What other choice does he have though? Katsura will be here any minute, and if he’s late for breakfast a second time in a row it’ll raise even more questions than before. 

Hijikata comes to the conclusion that there is no win-win situation here. He’ll just have to wash up as best he can and act normal afterward.

He fails to hear the knock at his door through the ringing in his ears from the ache and jumps out of his skin when his friend walks in.

“Hello there, Sleeping Be― whoa, hey, what the hell?” 

Katsura swiftly walks over, seizing him by the chin and yanking it up so hard and fast Hijikata feels like his brain just bounced around in his head. There’s concern written all over his friend’s face when he carefully presses the back of his hand to his forehead and then his cheeks to check his temperature. Judging by the creases that form on his face when he’s done, Katsura’s not happy with what he’s found.

“You… are you feeling okay?”

Hijikata can’t bring himself to lie, so he slowly shakes his head no. The guilt of disobeying Sensei finally settles within and he can’t think of having done a worse thing in his life.

“Itchy throat? Runny nose? Coughing?”

Another shake of the head.

“Umm…" Katsura chews his bottom lip. "Are you feeling dizzy? Head hurts?”

“Mmm,” he groans out. Forming coherent words through the pounding in his head seems impossible now, so he’ll just have to hope Katsura gets it.

“Oh my goodness! Ok, ok. Here, lie down.”

A gentle hand is placed somewhere below his collarbone and another between his shoulder blades. Katsura eases him onto his back and the pillow Hijikata lays his head on has never felt so soft and inviting. A forearm immediately goes over his eyes to block out any hint of sunlight coming from the window. Any other time he would’ve happily invited it but right now, even the smallest of rays would be blinding and painful. 

Katsura walks around the bed frame and smoothes the sheets as best he can before sitting himself beside Hijikata on the mattress. 

“Were you feeling this way last night?”

Hijikata shakes his head.

“You just woke up this morning and you felt like this?”

“Nnn-Kinda?” 

Katsura’s eyebrows pop up.

“What do you mean? Did you wake up at a random time in the night?”

He nods.

“Just once?”

“Uh-uh.” 

“Then how many times?”

To be completely frank, Hijikata has no idea. He wasn’t keeping track of something so unimportant while trying to fend off night terrors. 

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Ok, that’s fine. What are you feeling right now exactly? Headache?” 

“Mmm.” 

“You’re not feeling dizzy now that you’re lying down, are you?”

He shakes his head no. 

“Alright then. I think I’ll head to the dining chamber without you and let Onee-san know you’re not feeling well. How’s that sound?”

Hijikata really, really doesn’t want anyone to know about this, but he nods and gives a small smile anyway. Others would find out eventually and he’s in no mood to try and delay the inevitable. 

“I’ll be going, then. Just stay there, okay? Try not to move. Do you need anything?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you sure?”

He lifts the forearm from over his eyes and glares weakly at his friend. The mother-hen instincts were very much appreciated, but also the slightest bit annoying.

“Alright, alright, just making sure. Get some rest, will you?”

And with that, Katsura shuffles off the bed, heads over to the door, pulls it open, and disappears. 

Only a minute or two passes before Hijikata’s fast asleep.

-x-X-x-X-x-

When he wakes a while later, his room is dark. One glance at the window tells him it’s night. He pays no attention to the fact that the window is open and letting in a draft. There are faint howling noises outside, which is a bit odd since it is the middle of summer.

He sits up, rubbing at his eyes and holding down a yawn. The room’s temperature is cool, and he’s quick to notice that his headache is gone. He feels perfectly fine; not a hint of fatigue, dizziness, or nausea inside him. 

“Toshi.”

The voice comes from his left. He hadn’t noticed before that he wasn’t alone. His instincts don’t kick in; he doesn’t scramble away from the sound, he doesn’t make any sort of move to show he’s surprised.

It’s Sensei, seated on a backless chair. He’s wearing the same cream-colored yukata and black haori as yesterday. Even through the darkness, Hijikata can see the fondness in his eyes. 

Something is very, _ very _ wrong here, but he can’t bring himself to acknowledge it. Maybe it’s that he’s still in shock over his teacher’s death, or maybe he’s beginning to think Sensei never even died in the first place and what he’d witnessed the night before was all one long, terrifying nightmare. Regardless, he’s at peace seeing Sensei alive and well.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I need to speak to you for a bit. Is that okay?”

Hijikata nods.

“Good,” Sensei says, then goes silent for a few moments like he’s thinking of what to say next. “Do you remember that time I taught you the concept of prophecies?”

Hijikata thinks for a minute, then nods his head.

“Good,” Sensei says again. “Do you remember me telling you that it can happen to anyone and at any time?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Please listen carefully, Toshi.”

That’s when Hijikata notices. There’s a shadow behind Sensei, but it’s clearly alive. Its features aren’t very visible with how dark the room is, but something in Hijikata tells him he knows _ exactly _ who the person is. 

He wants to do something, yell a ‘look out!’ or shove Sensei to the side, but he’s frozen, eyes wide in horror. His interlocutor doesn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss so he keeps talking, but the words no longer register in Hijikata’s ears. He’s helplessly immobile, eyes locked on the blade as he watches it come out of its sheath, retract a bit, then surge forward with such force that it goes straight through Sensei’s chest and stops mere inches from where Hijikata is. 

He can’t look away. Blood comes cascading down Sensei’s front in rivulets and in seconds it’s forming a small puddle in his lap. Sensei immediately stops speaking, face going still as a statue, the cogs in his mind trying to comprehend that the pain blossoming in his chest will be the last he'll ever feel. 

Hijikata jolts when the man yanks his sword back, green eye glinting in the darkness, but instead of putting it back in his scabbard he goes for Sensei’s torso. 

He wants to move but _ something _ holds him back from doing so, a force on both his shoulders and thighs keeping him pressed against the pillow supporting his spine. Past the blood spotting Sensei’s trembling lips he can see the older man trying to speak, and a shaky hand raises itself toward him. Hijikata doesn’t know if he should reach out and touch it but he doesn’t have a choice anyhow. So he strains his ears and focuses all his attention on what Sensei is saying.

“T-Toshi… give… y―” He’s cut off abruptly by a groan and a violent tremor that runs through his whole body. The sword in his gut hasn’t withdrawn yet but now it does, slower this time and twisting a little, like it’s trying to make the pain even more excruciating than it is. It’s hard to fathom how Sensei can even speak at this point. 

“Give me what, Sensei?” he asks, tone brimming with desperation. It’s going to be hard for Sensei to form a proper response and they both know it. 

So he doesn’t. 

Those blue wormlike things are back. They glow so brightly the room gets almost completely illuminated. The man behind Sensei lets out a surprised noise and staggers back, shielding his eye. 

This time they spawn from the fingertips of Sensei’s outstretched hand. They come squirming and wriggling out from the two wounds on his chest and stomach, even from the little pool of blood in his lap. And they all make a beeline for Hijikata, just like before.

He can’t try and swat them away this time. That invisible force is still keeping him pinned where he is. His eyes lock with Sensei’s, and he hopes the message of utter puzzlement is clear enough in them. It is, because, despite being on the brink of death, the older man nods and lifts his other hand toward him.

“Take…” he says, then convulses again, “from me… t-take it… Toshirou…”

The second his name is called there’s a burst of blue light that comes from Sensei, so blinding he has to crush his eyelids together and turn away. When it fades to nothing moments later, Hijikata cautiously opens his eyes again. 

Sensei is gone. So is any trace of blood that might have splattered onto his surroundings. It’s like he was never even there to begin with.

A few minutes of absolute silence pass and Hijikata is beginning to think that that was all a figment of another one of his nightmares. He might as well go back to sleep since the moon is out. 

He tries to shift onto his right side but finds himself still unable to move. Something is still bearing down on his shoulders and legs, and it feels like they’re hammered into the bed by iron nails with how strong the force is.

He opens his mouth to call out for Tamegoro or Hayami or even Katsura, but the words barely leave his tongue when _ he _ appears at his bedside, green eye flashing just as dangerous as the sword in his right hand. Sharp, jagged, inhuman teeth can be seen when his lips stretch to form a grin.

“So it’s _ you_,” is all that’s said before the man suddenly lifts his sword over his head, points the tip of the blade downward, and thrusts it in Hijikata’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. A mosquito had to audacity to bite me in my sleep in the middle of September. At least it doesn't itch that much. 
> 
> I-I mean... whew, some ending that was.


	4. Adjusting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toshi spends time with his brother.

Hijikata had learned long ago that nightmares involving his own death never fully complete before he’s shooting up in bed and gasping for air. It’s mainly due to the fact that his brain doesn’t know what comes after or during death, having not yet experienced it. So when the same thing happens the second he sees the sword come down, he feebly runs a hand through his messy hair and wills for his heart to calm down. Over and over he tells himself _ it’s just a dream, it’s just a stupid little dream_, but never had he gone through one so vivid and real. It was nothing like those visions that had kept him awake the night before and in several ways. 

For one, he was always in the Lodge, on the floor by Sensei’s dead body, tears sliding down his cheeks. This time, he was comfortably sat in bed, and it seemed like he’d just awoken from a nap. 

Second, there was never a third person. Just now Hijikata had clearly seen that they had company when Sensei was speaking to him. 

Which brings him to the third difference: Sensei was very dead in his other night terrors. Not only was he alive this time but he was also trying to tell Hijikata something. And what was it, exactly? He remembers hearing something about prophecies, but after that, he’d stopped paying attention. But then those… things appeared, and Sensei kept telling him to ‘take it’. 

Take what? What the hell were those glowing blue things? He would’ve thought they were worms if he didn’t know better, but they didn’t squirm and wriggle around. They moved swiftly and with purpose. 

He thinks back to yesterday afternoon when he had his last conversation with Sensei. What he’d seen afterward made the words exchanged between them all the more confusing. He explicitly remembers Sensei saying things that made no sense whatsoever, like ‘being unavailable’ indefinitely and ‘seeing Hijikata soon’. Did he have plans to leave the castle for some time but was killed before doing so? And why was he so calm back at the Lodge?

He leans back until his spine hits the pillow. His body ache is not gone. Neither is his headache, and all this thinking isn’t helping in making him feel better. The sunlight streaming through the glass of his window completely illuminates the room, but it thankfully isn’t bothering his eyes too much.

How long was he asleep for? Shouldn’t someone have stopped by his room by now?

_ Speak of the devil_, he thinks, as there’s a firm, loud knock on his door. Hayami would’ve been gentler, so he’s guessing it’s not her.

“C’min,” he says, just audible enough for his voice to reach the other side of the door. 

It’s Tamegoro, looking none too happy. He quietly shuts the door behind him and walks up to Hijikata’s bed. Hijikata scoots over to the right a little to allow his brother room to sit and soon enough, he’s lying on his side, legs tangled with Tamegoro’s, his throbbing head snug against his chest. Tamegoro wraps his arms around Hijikata’s own chest and middle, and they’re both nice and comfy.

“What happened, Toshi?”

That’s too broad a question for Hijikata to answer. Should he talk about his not being well, or should he start from last night’s incident? How would Tamegoro react to hearing Sensei’s death? Did he even know about it? Did anyone grow worried that the older man wasn’t present at the dining table for breakfast?

“‘M not feelin’ good.”

Tamegoro chuckles lightly, resting his chin on top of Hijikata’s head. 

“I can see that. Katsura told me you’ve got a headache? And you were feeling dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

“And that you kept waking up during the night?”

“Mhmm.” He yawns and draws himself closer to Tamegoro, eyes fluttering shut on their own volition.

“Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep on me!”

“‘M not,” he mumbles into Tamegoro’s chest. Another yawn.

“No, seriously, Toshi. Please talk to me. I’ve got stuff to tell you, too.”

This gets his attention, and he perks up a little.

“What stuff?”

“First tell me your stuff.”

“My stuff?”

“Ya-huh.”

Hijikata hesitates. There’s no point in telling Tamegoro his current health issues because he already knows. He’s not sure if telling him about Sensei is a good idea, either, but what option does that leave him?

“I… don’t really have anything to say.”

By now Tamegoro’s fingers have found themselves combing through Hijikata’s hair. They press against his scalp and they’re cold, so it feels wonderful given his headache.

“Are you sure, Toshi? You can trust me.”

A few seconds pass before a wave of guilt washes over him. Tamegoro’s voice is light, not demanding, and it’s obvious he’s worried. He only uses that tone when he’s being honest or wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Hijikata wasn’t planning on telling anyone what he’d seen last night but knows it would help a lot in taking loads of stress off him. 

He takes a deep breath.

“It’s… about Sensei.”

The hand in his hair freezes. His mind’s too clouded but otherwise, he’d swear he felt Tamegoro visibly tense.

“After lunch, he came and told me not to go to the Lodge at night. He was really firm about it, saying it was a ‘last request’ or whatever. I told him I wouldn’t, but it just… stayed on my mind the whole day, and I did end up going.”

He pauses. Tamegoro’s back to combing his hair. Hijikata can’t see his face, given their positions, but he hopes it’s not twisted into some regretful grimace. 

“I went there, and there was someone with Sensei. They were talking, but not the friendly kind.”

He stops again to think. He can’t just go ‘Sensei was on the floor with a sword pointed at his neck, and that sword drove straight into his chest and killed him’. But maybe Tamegoro would have an idea of who the mystery man was?

“The other person was pretty young. He had dark purple hair and only one eye. It was green. He had a sword with him, pointed at Sensei. Do you know who I’m talking about, Nii-san?”

He cranes his neck a little to see Tamegoro’s face and it’s calculating, pondering over what information to reveal and what to not. 

“I do, Toshi.” He doesn’t say anything after that. Not a name, or why he might have been there. Hijikata isn't sure if he should ask or not.

“His name is Taksugi Shinsuke. He is quite ruthless with a sword. I’m guessing he was sent to get rid of Sensei?”

Hijikata wishes that answered more questions than it raised. How did Tamegoro know him? How did he know about his skill with a sword? How did he know that this Takasugi was specifically sent to kill Sensei? Why is he so calm after being indirectly told that Sensei is now dead?

He opts for a ‘how do you know?’. 

Tamegoro exhales loudly, his cheeks puffing up when he does so.

“This is going to take a lot of explaining to do, Toshi. You sure you wanna hear now, what with your headache and everything?”

Hijikata gives a tiny nod. His curiosity far exceeds the pain, anyway.

-x-X-x-X-x-

Frankly, he wishes he said no because it currently feels like a hammer is using his skull as an anvil. It’s a lot to process. Tamegoro had talked for a long time, though he often paused or hesitated like he didn’t want to accidentally say something wrong or something he didn’t want Hijikata to know. Sensei was almost never mentioned, though Tamegoro had gotten most of the information from him. 

Sensei was not the only one in the kingdom with _ kiryoku _ at least a 6.5. There is someone else, at around a 6.6. Tamegoro isn’t a hundred percent sure why, but this being had sent Takasugi Shinsuke to eradicate Sensei, but not before getting answers out of the old man. From what Hijikata had seen, this part is true: Takasugi was indeed questioning Sensei about something vague right before stabbing his heart. 

This being’s name is Utsuro. Right off the bat, Hijikata could tell he isn’t the nicest guy on the planet. He was always a man with ill intentions and as far as Tamegoro could tell, is targeting the throne. It might be for the power and sheer dominance or some other complex reason. Sensei was an obstacle for Utsuro sometime in the past when the latter had tried overthrowing the authorities, and for obvious reasons, which most logically explains where his murder fits into all this. In other words, Sensei’s death has made the kingdom extremely vulnerable to attack. From here on out, essentially everyone is in serious danger, they just don’t know it yet.

Utsuro isn’t working alone. There are at least three others under his command that carry out relatively smaller tasks, including Takasugi Shinsuke. Only two others are known of by Tamegoro: an older man with gray hair and a missing eye, and a younger one with curly brown hair and sunglasses. It’s very likely that there are more.

“So… what’s gonna happen now?”

“What do you mean, Toshi?”

They’re still in the same positions as half an hour ago. Hijikata’s hair had started feeling itchy and uncomfortable against his neck so he’d tied it up. 

“Y’know. About this Utsuro guy. Isn’t he gonna come for you or something?”

Tamegoro scratches at his shoulder.

“I reckon he won’t for the time being, Toshi.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well…” he trails off. He stays silent for a long time, and eventually, Hijikata thinks he’s fallen asleep. “Had Sensei ever spoken to you about prophecies?”

_ Prophecies. _ They were mentioned in his dream.

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. I know this might sound silly, but they do exist. Not everyone has dealt with them, but a few weeks ago, Sensei did.”

He licks his lips and stops again. 

“Have you also been told that prophecies depict events that are inevitable?”

Hijikata thinks a bit.

“Yeah, since they’re... s’posed to be fate or something.”

“Alright, good, good.

“The old man knew he would be killed, Toshi. He was told so. He’d kept it to himself for a while but consulted me yesterday after lunch, then later on in the evening.” He narrows his eyes and gives the top of Hijikata’s head a pointed look. “I was told not to go to the Lodge as well, and I didn’t.”

Hijikata’s cheeks color in embarrassment. He sits up to push away from Tamegoro and frowns at him.

“I couldn’t help it, alright? I just… had this feeling that I should go and I listened to that feeling. You can’t blame me for being curious.”

Tamegoro laughs lightly and shifts to straighten his back against the pillows.

“Just teasing you, Toshi,” he says and pulls Hijikata to his chest again. “It’s good that you’re distracted like this, though. It’ll make you forget about your headache.”

Hijikata grumbles and frowns some more but shuts up.

“After his death takes place, there will be peace for some time, Sensei said. I’m guessing by that he meant neither Utsuro nor his lackeys will be showing themselves for a while.”

Hijikata hums. That puts their conversation to an end. Tamegoro has nothing else to do here but Hijikata doesn’t want him to leave. He unconsciously wraps his fingers around the folds of his brother’s robes and presses himself closer. His headache is still there and though his body doesn’t physically hurt anymore, there’s a fragile feeling all over. Like his bones are half-filled with air and simply standing would take a massive toll on his energy. 

Tamegoro seems to take the hint because he settles impossibly further into the pillows and simultaneously tightens his arms around Hijikata’s waist. One hand wanders up to Hijikata’s head again and starts massaging. By now his fingers have gotten significantly warmer but it’s still comforting. Every now and then his hand stops moving or does so at an irregular pattern and that tells Hijikata that the man’s thinking.

He’s about to ask what the matter is but Tamegoro beats him to it.

“Toshi. I understand that Sensei’s death is extremely hard on you. I feel the same exact way, trust me. But I hope this little talk has alleviated some of the pain if not all of it. I know I just told you a lot of new information that you shouldn’t even be knowing in the first place, but you probably would have figured it out anyway.” He chuckles and it somehow brings a tiny smile to Hijikata’s face. 

Tamegoro is right. Although Hijikata is used to bottling everything up and occasionally spilling it in Katsura’s presence, telling Tamegoro what happened last night has brought a huge sense of relief to his mind. He has to wait a bit to be healed physically and even longer mentally, but this first step that he almost never took in his life has eased the task already. 

Tamegoro clears his throat.

“We can’t forget about your classes though, Toshi. I was told you are to learn some new words in the coming months? That language is very rare, and though I’d love to aid in teaching it to you, I won’t be able to find the time. So...”

He takes a deep breath and Hijikata tenses a little, fearing the worst.

“You’ll be provided with a new teacher. He’s fairly young and experienced too, so I trust you two will get along. How’s that sound, Toshi? Is it a bit too soon or do you think you’re ready?”

For the second time that day, Hijikata’s mind is reeling. He’d entirely forgotten about his night classes and frankly didn’t want to be reminded about them for the time being. 

He doesn’t think Sensei could be replaced. He’s never been _this _attached to someone, excluding Tamegoro, Hayami, and Katsura, and even then those relationships were different when compared to Sensei. Though Tamegoro and his wife are filled with nothing but love for Hijikata, long periods of time spent with them has always been uncommon, what with their ranks in the hierarchy and importance to society. Katsura was and will always be his best friend. Everyone in the castle was born decades before Hijikata himself so his bond with Katsura, someone in his age range, had started off strong and still remains so. But the guy was an airhead, and nowadays would disappear often without providing reasons or context when questioned. 

To Hijikata, Sensei had always been his go-to because the remainder of the old man’s life was dedicated to Hijikata’s education on sorcery. That alone spoke volumes to him, and the prospect of him not being in Hijikata’s life one day never even dared enter his mind until that very day truly came. For most people, it takes time to fully accept such things as the death of a loved one, but as Sensei always used to say to him, Hijikata is unique, quick to adapt or react to changes in his surroundings. Of course, it would take a while for him to adjust to living without Sensei, but he’s beginning to mentally accept it and sooner or later, will move on. 

Being stuck in the past is never a good thing, he’s learned, and Tamegoro’s telling that to him too. Maybe he’s reading into things that don’t mean anything, but the fact that his brother had found Hijikata a new teacher so quickly might just be Tamegoro’s way of preventing him from dwelling on Sensei’s death. Also, Tamegoro had done this purely out of consideration for him and that makes it all the more inappropriate for Hijikata to turn down the offer. 

Plus, Tamegoro explicitly stated that this new teacher of his is young and experienced. Hijikata doesn’t know to what degree, but surely the only reason those things were mentioned was that they were something good. Hijikata would ultimately have to be the judge of that, but Tamegoro’s thoughts on the matter are assuring to him. 

He exhales through his nose.

“Of course, Nii-san. ‘M willing to start as soon as possible, so it’s your call.”

Tamegoro beams and his eyes crinkle at the corners with his smile. Relief is buried within them. 

“That’s awesome to hear, Toshi. He should be available at any time but I think it’s best if we start classes tomorrow. Do you want to meet him before then or...?”

Well, Hijikata would like to get an idea of who this person is before getting straight to lessons, so he nods his head. 

“Wonderful! Rest for now, Toshi, then wash up in the evening and we’ll see him in the meeting room sometime before dinner. How’s that sound?”

Again, he nods. Now that Tamegoro’s mentioned it, he does feel exhausted, despite sleeping in that morning. As if on cue, he lets out a yawn. 

“I’ll be going now, then. I’ll let everyone know that you’re not to be disturbed.”

Hijikata doesn’t want Tamegoro to go, they’re so snug and comfortable like this, but he complies when the man gently pushes him away to get off the bed. He slowly lies down until his head settles against the pillow. It’s nice and warm, and when Tamegoro has righted himself and pulled the blanket over Hijikata’s curled-up form it feels heavenly. He’s surprised at how fast his eyelids start drooping. 

When he falls asleep, he doesn’t dream.

-x-X-x-X-x-

When Hijikata is groggily sitting up in bed a few hours later, the sun is well on its way to sinking below the horizon. The sky outside is a mix of blues and pinks and oranges and even through his half-awake state Hijikata marvels at how beautiful it is. The view makes him forget about his current situation for some time. He wishes it to last a little longer but way too soon the memories of last night come flooding back and the look of wonder in his eyes fades away.

He’s feeling pretty okay now― much better than earlier― so that’s a huge relief. He doesn’t ache anywhere save for a small spot somewhere on his head. He isn’t sure if it was the nap or his talk with Tamegoro but it’s the one thing he’s feeling happy about right now. 

He kicks the covers aside and stands up, and that brings a small bout of dizziness that has him immediately sitting back down. It’s very minor this time so he just blames it on the fact that he’d gotten up too fast. When he tries again he cautiously gives his body a nice, long stretch. It feels wonderful, like all the weariness is being wrung out with every strained pull of the muscle. 

Dinner would be served in a little less than two hours given the current position of the sun. Tamegoro wanted Hijikata to meet with his new teacher before then, and it would only make sense that they use that time period to the fullest. So Hijikata steps out of his room to wash up, then changes into something presentable. He doesn’t want to come off as gaudy or full of himself because he wants his new relationship to start off well for the sake of Tamegoro and, in an odd way, Sensei. Said relationship would become a huge and important part of his life so botching up a first impression would have lasting effects that Hijikata surely does not need. 

Frankly, he doesn’t know what to expect. As aforementioned, he’d never known someone as experienced in sorcery as Sensei. Being a teacher in that field required high levels of skill and _ kiryoku_. This new person would definitely be way out of Hijikata’s league and it wouldn’t be easy for him to accept that. Also, who knows how this person acts and speaks? Sensei was never condescending, always encouraging and kind, and those are definitely necessary for any teacher’s line of work, yet Hijikata can’t help but wonder if his new teacher would have the same aspects. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t need to do much for his hair to tame itself. When his fingers run through the strands they don’t get stuck somewhere along the way. He would use Sensei’s spell to hold them up but it simply doesn’t feel right. It takes him a while of rummaging through the many drawers of the wood vanity but he does find a hair tie eventually. It’s a bit fancier than the plain ones he has: a dull golden color with tiny tassels on each end. 

He’s about to leave his room again when his stomach gives a low, almost painful growl. He completely forgot how hungry he would be, given that he didn’t eat all day. He was too distracted earlier on to be reminded of that.

He sighs, pulling open the door and nearly giving out a high-pitched yell when he sees a lady standing a few feet away. She’s young, but something about her glasses and warm smile and the tray she’s clutching makes Hijikata take her for an old woman. When she sees him open the door she shifts the tray to just one hand and bows deeply.

“Good evening, Ouji-sama. I’ve come to deliver a small snack for you. Please enjoy.”

She waits for him to step aside so she could place the tray somewhere in his room and Hijikata almost lets her were it not for the realization that his bed might just look like two people were wrestling in it.

“Uh, I’ll take it from here, thanks.”

He holds his hand out for the tray but the lady freezes. Hijikata is about to ask what the matter is when he sees her cheeks slowly turn redder and redder until her whole face is scarlet. His first instinct is to panic. 

Was she choking on her own spit?!

“Hey―”

“I-it’s no pro-problem, Hiji- uh, O-Ouji-sama!” she splutters and hands him the tray as carefully as possible. “Th-then, please enjoy!” 

And with that, she bows again and practically stumbles down the hallway, whispering excitedly to herself. Hijikata watches her go, slightly creeped out and very confused.

The tray he’s holding is sporting a single ceramic bowl with a navy blue flowery design on the edges. The bowl is filled with fried rice and a pair of clean chopsticks sits beside it. 

Hijikata closes the door to his room and walks over to the empty table sat in a corner, opposite the bed and windows. The room has little furniture which explains why it’s so spacious. He doesn’t really have anything in it other than a bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a vanity, and a medium-sized table with a chair. There’s just this large chunk of empty floor in the center of his room and it looks somewhat odd but he likes things the way they are. 

He sits down before digging in. The rice tastes a bit bland, but he doesn’t always pay attention to flavor and right now his stomach is willing to digest just about anything. 

In mere minutes it’s gone. Hijikata wishes he’d asked for water too since he can barely swallow now with how dry his mouth is. 

There’s a hesitant knock on his door, and when he grabs the tray and opens the door again it’s the same lady as before, this time holding a smaller tray with a glass of water balanced in the center. 

_ What the―_

“Would… would you like a drink as well, Ouji-sama? I-I can take the other tray from you so as not to burden you with a... menial task.”

Hijikata is starting to suspect this lady is new staff since that would explain her overall lack of experience. 

“Yeah, sure,” he says, then grabs the glass and awkwardly places the bigger tray on top of the smaller one. “I’m heading out now, thanks for the meal.”

He subtly pushes past her and speed-walks down the hall. There’s a stairwell closeby that leads to the lower floor so he heads there. A few others are bustling around where the kitchen is and they all stop what they’re doing to formally greet him. He nods back at them, drains the glass he’s holding, shoves it in someone’s direction as politely as he can, and continues on to the meeting room Tamegoro had mentioned earlier.

He hadn’t noticed before, but Hijikata is feeling a tad bit anxious. It’s probably because the realization that the person he’ll be seeing soon will be replacing Sensei for the remainder of his learning experience is finally starting to dawn on him. Hijikata is going to be seeing this person _ almost every night _ from now on. He’s going to develop a unique bond with this person and slowly grow closer, even if he doesn’t want to. He’s going to have to adjust to and accept their personality, even if he doesn’t want to. Things like that are crucial in order for him to benefit from his lessons and use what he learns later on. 

A tall man is stood by the closed double doors that lead to the meeting room. He nods in acknowledgment when he spots Hijikata’s approaching figure and reaches out to pull the doors open.

-x-X-x-X-x-

Hijikata’s mind can barely form any coherent thoughts or a solid opinion when his eyes first land on the man he doesn’t recognize. He’s sat across from Tamegoro and the two seemed to have been chatting amiably before his arrival. Now the two rise from their seats and watch expectantly as he stiffly makes his way over, heart pounding for reasons he can’t figure out. 

He doesn’t know why but he can’t look away. The stranger is the very opposite of what he was expecting. At first, Hijikata thinks he is an old man because of his greyish hair and plain clothing. When he gets closer he sees that the curls on his head are in fact silver. From the chandelier up above it makes his hair seem like it has multiple shades of white and grey.

His eyes looked brown and unspecial from afar but they turn out to be a sharp, knowing red. That, coupled with the strange hair and almost deathly pale skin, makes this man look like the spawn of an angel and a demon. 

Maybe it’s the feeling of surprise that’s rolling over him that has him failing to notice at first that this man is, in turn, staring at Hijikata. That would have been completely normal and expected were it not that there’s a hint of a smirk prodding at the man’s lips. 

Hijikata blinks. He has _ never _ been smirked at before. It might be his status, it might be the no-nonsense aura he tends to give off without knowing it, it might be the perpetual frown that creases his face. So he doesn’t know how to react when a man he _ barely knows _ starts watching him with this glint in his creepy eyes. 

It’s mocking and challenging, it’s what causes Hijikata’s brows to knit together and for him to glower at the stranger. It’s what has his fingers curling into fists and wanting to smash themselves against the man’s stupid jaw when his smirk only grows wider. 

“Ah, there you are, Toshi!” Tamegoro says, patting the empty spot of the upholstered bench he’s sitting on. “Come, have a seat.”

Hijikata does, though stiffly. He’s suddenly uncomfortable with this whole situation and confused because the atmosphere is so relaxed and he’s _ just gotten _ here. Whatever happened to first impressions and keeping his cool? What happened to that reminder that he’s going to have to accept his new teacher for who he is? 

He’s awkward and somewhat antisocial, he knows that. But meeting new people has never caused him to grow hot all over with supposed embarrassment or anger. He’s never held contempt toward a stranger and for obvious reasons. There’s no way for him to explain that it’s not just the offending smirk that’s still plastered on the man’s face that has him itching to muster a nasty little spell and send it his way. 

Honestly, the only thing holding him back is Tamegoro and the fact that this man is crucial for the circumstances of his own future. He can’t tell if that’s selfish or not but he doesn’t give two shits. 

Oddly enough, but also to his relief, Tamegorou and the stranger go right back to talking like they’re old buddies. The smirk is gone but the feelings it stirred inside Hijikata aren’t. He isn’t about to just openly glare at the stranger but using every swear word he knows and mentally cursing him suffices for the time being. 

When he’s formally introduced Hijikata stands again and bows, but there’s no warmth in his actions. The stranger does the same and unlike Hijikata, his muscles aren’t rigid and he’s calm about it. Against his will, Hijikata’s ears start burning and well, he’s frowning all over again. 

“Nice to meet you, Ouji-sama,” the stranger says, his voice smooth. “My name is Sakata Gintoki.” 

  
  



End file.
